How to Ride a Tikbalang Ch. 02

The wee hours' darkness gave way to a glorious dawn of pastels and soft light filtered through the hamog, the morning dew that did not care if it touched cityscape or rugged countryside.

Jinx stretched the kinks out of her back. Sleeping in a chair, no matter that the planter's chair she'd slept on was designed for napping, was still a bit harder on one's back than the soft, ergonomic mattress she should have lain in last night.

She drew her fingers lightly over the insides of her still spread thighs, feeling the skin that had heated so much under her touch in the semi-darkness of her living room just hours earlier and she couldn't help wishing she'd had Cocoy and Kidlat with her.

But, no, it was never a good idea to play genital hockey with men she'd just met while under the influence of alcohol, and she'd had way too much at the time. She thought of the two men wrestling for control over one another on the Pepe's Pole dance floor again and felt the rush of heat through her body, to the pencil eraser-points of her dusky brown nipples and down to her puki and clit, which were sore with friction burn from her frantic fingers' stimulation.

She shook her head. It's time to get up and start the day, Jinx. Lazing around is for people who haven't any businesses to tend. You can call the men and be a slut later. They're probably still asleep.

Jinx got up, did a few torso-twists and stepped onto the plush area rug in front of the planter's chair. Then she stretched out in a sun salute before dropping into a downward dog to flex all the sore muscles in her body.

Good morning, sunshine! It didn't matter how badly she slept, Jinx was a lark who only needed to greet the first rays of sunlight to start the day right. Especially since she'd spent time with not one, but two gorgeous men who seemed to like her in that way. That does a woman's body (and mind) a lot of good, too.

Time for breakfast, then a quick shower, Jinx decided. She'd have to look over the stock for her boutique, Inocencia's, check if the essential oils and luxury toiletries she made and sold to a select clientele was enough, or if she'd need to replenish it from her farm in Tagaytay City.

Well, when you are given a name like Janina Inocencia Paloma, you do something good with it, yes? Since Jinx had no liking for that name at all (but was stuck with it for life), she just put it to the best use possible. When life gives you kalamansi, after all, you squeeze all the juice out of them that you can.

It was between the first sip of strong, black coffee and the first bite of her hot pandesal, tomato and water buffalo mozzarella sandwich that it struck, that strange sensation of intense light flowing through her veins and bursting out of her skin.

The feeling was so totally alien that Jinx dropped both sandwich and statement mug on her petrified wood dining table in shock, her back arcing against the ladder-back hardwood chair where she sat.

Her hands splayed onto the tabletop to keep her from pitching forward, the energy so strong it was moving her torso forward, then back. Jinx turned her head to the wide antique mirror running the length of one wall over an ornately-carved sideboard made of dark molave wood and saw the light trickling from her eyes like tears, leaving blindingly bright tracks down her face. When she opened her mouth to scream, light flashed so brightly out of it that it obliterated her image in the mirror.

While that was already enough to totally freak Jinx out, she truly lost it when she looked at the scorch marks on her sandwich—finger-shaped scorch marks—as smoke began to rise from the old driftwood of her dining table.

***

Cocoy looked himself over critically in the mirror as he fastened the buttons on his black dress shirt and drew a deep breath. You are a good-looking man, Cornelio Colina delos Reyes, he told himself as he stretched his arms over his head in the victory pose. You have this interview in the bag. You are so gorgeous it hurts.

And he was. His wavy black hair was tamed (for now) into a slicked back style, his heavy brows the perfect highlights to eyes deep as the sea and ringed with sooty, long lashes over a straight, well-formed nose and the thick, sensuous lips that set off the cut planes of his chiseled jaw. Cocoy drew in a deep breath as he turned away from the mirror, satisfied he looked his best.

It never failed to surprise Cocoy how nervous facing the press made him, even after years of being one of the prime thespians on stages across Asia and Europe. He could go from Chinese opera to Shakespearean drama in the flick of a finger, but sitting in front of a posse of reporters always, always had him on edge. He came from an impeccable pedigree.

His great-grand-aunt had played the most memorable Cho-Cho San to ever grace Milan's soaring La Scala opera house, the place where Madame Butterfly had made its world debut. He was a triple-threat actor, with a baritone as beautiful as his dance moves were graceful. And, yes, he could act, he even had the awards on his mantel from various well-respected award-giving bodies to prove that.

Now that he was embarking on something a bit less classical and a bit more pop culture, the butterflies in his stomach turned into pterosaurs. Enough of the jitters, you sexy beast. Go and wow them.

The first strains of his debut single, Swing Both Ways, began playing. He took his cue to leap to the center of the stage dominating the front of the Mariott Hotel's gigantic ballroom (so big it was a separate structure from the hotel, in fact).

The floor lights came on, limning his crouched profile, caressing the hard curve of his butt, throwing his face into shadow, then playing across his chest and legs as he rose up and held himself spread-eagled to the gasps of the crowd at his feet.

The hard-driving heavy metal undertones overlaid with pop-rock guitar and synth thrummed through the room as he tweaked the wireless microphone headset embedded in his ear and began singing the opening bars of the song he'd composed weeks ago.

He'd made this song as a break from the past, not just to exit the closet he'd been in, but to splinter the closet doors with finality. His usually cultured voice gave way to roars and growls, to screams of defiance and demands that would not be denied. Cocoy channeled all that into his song with an unleashed aggression that he'd never, ever shown.

Mama said I need a girl,

A good, good girl

But I want her nasty

With leather, with lace

With my hot kisses on her face.

I want a bad girl, give me a bad girl

Who swings both ways.

I want a man,

Man as I am, hard as I am,

With whips and chains.

A bad, bad man with me in hand,

And my hand hard on him,

Who swings both ways.

I'm gonna make him kneel,

I'm gonna make her cry.

I'm the hard, hot man

Who'll make them swing both ways.

So give me the freedom

Of a pendulum, a trapeze rider

Who swings both ways.

Gimme it all.

Gimme it all.

Give me that woman.

Give me that man.

Let's all swing

The way my love does:

Swing both ways.

Tell my Mama, babe,

That we swing both ways.

You can't cage us.

We're not gay.

We're not straight.

No one can hold us

As we swing our way.

The only rules that count

Are the rules we make.

We will be gods

Who swing our way.

The music swelled as Cocoy threw himself into the first live performance of this song that was climbing the local music charts and, thanks to YouTube, going viral with its raunchy video across social media.

He ended on a rebel yell, putting over a decade and a half of rigorous dance training to good use as he tore his shirt open (displaying a set of naughty nipple rings and the bad-boy tattoo of a rampant roan stallion across his back) and performed a flawless series of side-flip kicks that strained the taut leather of his pants and steel-toed black boots for the screaming fans behind the stolid line of entertainment press and photographers.

Taking a towel proferred by his personal assistant, Cocoy sat himself down at the table fronting the stage and prepared himself for the questions—including the inevitable questions that would come about his sexuality. Oh, I am more than ready for this. Bring it on. He flashed an underwear-melting smile as he spoke into the handheld mic propped up in front of him, his manager and publicist flanking him.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I am sure you have questions for me, but, first, let me welcome you to the launch of a new recording label that I hope will revive the original Pilipino music industry and take it to the next level: Welcome to your first glimpse of Lintik Records, which will strike the world with original Filipino-made music the likes of which has never been made before."

The stage lit up with pinwheel fireworks and laser lights as a set of velvet curtains was drawn to reveal the Lintik Records label logo, red lightning shooting through three yellow stars and a white sun on a field of bright, deep blue.

Several well-known Filipino bands and musicians were cast in silhouette for a second or two before they stepped forward into the spotlights that came on from above: Punk rock bands, world music artists, folk singers and not a few musical theater and classical musicians whose talent was world-class and undeniable, each one of them stepping up to a microphone speaking only one line: "I am Lintik Records."

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Lintik Records roster of musicians," Cocoy said, willing the audience to absorb his words well. "We will do so much more than rock your world. Come and get us."

There were a few seconds of dead air, as if the hundred or so people sitting and milling about in the huge ballroom had been spellbound.

It was there that it happened, amid a luxe selection of gigantic cakes and trestle-tables laden with cheese platters and cold cuts smorgrasbords, with chafing dishes of native delicacies and aphrosidiacs sitting cheek-to-jowl with the best wines from Europe and the New World.

Cocoy could feel the pull of the crowd's sudden arousal, the air grew heavy with the lust of an entire audience focused on him and it was all he could do to hang on to his confidence, to the huge ego that had served him so well in the years he'd spent onstage.

The crowd surged forward on a wild, animal howl. They were intent on Cocoy, and only Cocoy, and they engulfed him and the people at the suddenly small table he was at with a suddeness that took his breath away. He was only able to make a quick getaway from the unexpected melee by crawling under the skirts that surrounded the stage where he'd so recently sung and danced and making his gasping way to the side exit to the ballroom's kitchens.

***

Kidlat was exhausted as he rolled off his sectional sofa onto the cool teracotta tile of his living room floor. He'd spent the night burning candles and incense, casting black salt and green macaw feathers into his scrying. He'd never failed to find his path before and it was with immeasurable frustration that he swiped a hand over his face.

He'd not get his father's Molave throne, that much he knew, since Buhawi had found a Babaylan whose power was their Inay's equal. Something he learned the hard way when he tried to stop their mating—since Buhawi's Tala had managed to use lightning—his namesake element—to knock him unconscious. Against a pink hibiscus plant. How embarrassing.

But that was behind him already. Why his scrying kept replaying that moment was beyond him. The only new words that came of the hours and hours of ritual were a a few audible lines from a song by the Ibong Adarna, that overgrown poppycock.

Kidlat had gotten so damn sleepy by the time the bird began to sing, ghosting against the deep black of the night skyline framed by his wall of double-glazed tempered glass windows. He was barely awake when the bird began to sing.

Then, just like that, the song ended and he was wide awake again and the dawn had broken and bloomed into mid-morning.

Seek you the Bayot

SkyFather has granted you this.

Seek you the Diwata,

EarthMother's secret gift.

Seek you Sinukuan,

Makiling's sister,

For she protects she whom

You will have for your own.

Seek them, find them

Own them, bind them.

The path will clear

When they are near

When you've become dear

To him, to her:

Your light

Your map

The two who will

Keep you still

And move you.

Oh, well, now, that should be simple. Why didn't I think of that? Wry thoughts were, after all, Kidlat's metier. Being the younger, less-approved of son of the Tikbalang king and the First Priestess and Moon Goddess gives you that expertise. At least he was his grandfather's favorite.

Well, it was as good a time as any to call Cocoy and Jinx. Kidlat had to begin somewhere and, though his brother would be king, he would be the Chief Pathfinder. That meant getting his bearings, at the soonest possible time. Because killing Buhawi was no longer an option (not that it ever was, beyond his wishful thinking), it was time to pave his own road to immortality because a kingdom is not run by a king alone.

Oh, the resentment was there, make no mistake. But Kidlat knew when to hold them and when to fold them. Because walking away was definitely not in the cards. He'd have to swallow his pride. Again. But maybe, just maybe there would be someone (or more than one someone) who would make the swallowing bearable.

Kidlat took a quick shower and scarfed down some oatmeal and toast with jam, fortified himself with strong, sweet Batangas coffee and made his calls to Jinx and Cocoy asking them to meet up at his place in the late afternoon.

That done. Kidlat called the Grammercy Place concierge to send him a wake-up call and escort his guests up to the penthouse and collapsed onto the black cotton sheets of his bed for a much-needed nap. So what if thinking about Cocoy's wavy hair and intense eyes and Jinx's lush ass and luscious lips made him hard? He'd worry about that when they got here.

***

Cocoy and Jinx stood awkwardly in the elevator as it rose steadily to the penthouse without stopping. This was Kidlat's personal elevator and the concierge had sent a snappily uniformed member of the housekeeping service in with them.

They both wanted to touch each other, but there was a gooseberry in the elevator and they didn't dare. Jinx felt especially leery of touching anything or anyone, too, after nearly setting her house on fire. She was able to keep the 'sunshine' in, but only if she concentrated and held it back. The moment she was distracted, whammo, blazes (literally).

"Hey," Jinx said gently as she waggled her fingers at Cocoy, her voice a soft, sweet sound that pinged off the mirrored elevator walls as she smiled nervously at Cocoy, who was doing his level best to look cool and collected.

"Hey." Cocoy said, returning Jinx's smile with one that promised an aggressive exploration of possibilities as soon as their gooseberry was out of the way.

Between them stood a petite woman with her caramel hair in a prim bun at the nape of her neck, her head bowed and her hands clasped tightly together. For all the coolness of the elevator, she was sweating, her hands going from her waist to the name tag (Sarah) on her uniform's right breast.

Once the elevator hit the penthouse, Sarah punched a button and cleared her throat. "Mr. Batumbakal is expecting you, so the front door should be open, Sir, Ma'am."

The two stepped out and walked the bare few steps to the black door directly across the elevator and they heard Sarah sigh loudly in relief before the elevator doors slid shut and whisked her away.

"Was she..." Jinx turned to Cocoy, cocking up a brow seeking confirmation of what she'd seen before the elevator closed. "Was she pulling up her skirt?"

"I'm afraid she was," Cocoy said, his voice just as astonished. "It's a long ride. I'm sure she'll be done before she gets to the ground floor."

"Has that been happening to you lately?" Jinx continued with her queries as she pulled a handkerchief from the tote bag on her shoulder and wiped sweat from her brow. "I've had people acting strange around me all day. Along those, ahem, lines. Also, is all the air conditioning in the metro on the fritz? Because, I swear, it's way too hot for the monsoon season."

"You have no idea," Cocoy replied shortly, his temper still on the edge from his narrow escape from the press conference earlier. "It's almost like I'm a walking aphrodisiac and, as much as I may have wanted to be a sex god, today was beyond too much."

***

Cocoy and Jinx walked into the foyer and beheld large, framed photos worthy of an art gallery. The biggest one was of Kidlat in mid-air, casting a killer lay-up into the NCCA finals hoop. This was the epic five-peat, the critical shot that won the Ateneo Blue Eagles their record basketball title.

There was a small engraving on brass beneath the photo frame: "Kidlat Daluyong Batumbakal scores the winning shot of a five-peat."

His face in the photo was intent, feral, determined and oh so beautiful to Jinx, and to Cocoy, who stood tranfixed by it.

"I wonder if his face looks like that when he comes," Jinx blurted out. "That would be a beautiful sight."

"Do you always speak so bluntly?" Kidlat's voice skated down the space between the three as he came into view, his chest bare and a pair of black cotton pyjama pants barely concealing the muscles (and other things) it covered. His hair was tousled into a cap of corkscrew curls and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Well, there went my panties, was Jinx's last coherent thought. The sight of Kidlat half-naked was hot enough to maker her spontaneously combust. Stop thinking about spontaneous combustion, woman. Instead of melting into a pool of wanton arousal at their feet, you're about to go ka-blooey. Great.

"Kidlat," Cocoy said turning on the charm full blast now. Because the zipper on his jeans was about to leave permanent marks on some very personal property now that he was standing between Jinx and Kidat. "Good to see you. We have unfinished business, you, her and I."

"Have you eaten? Let's take this to the kitchen," Kidlat said, his face grim. "At least we should have some merienda while we sort a few things out."

"How about we get some of this sexual tension out of the way, first, boys?" Jinx blurted out again. "Because, I don't know how you two keep it in your pants but I'm literally on fire."

Kidlat and Cocoy both focused their gazes on Jinx, whose skin was beginning to glow along the veins and arteries beneath it as she spoke. Her eyes grew bright and the intensity of the light emanating from her eyes, nostrils, mouth and ears began to grow until they were looking at a being of light shaped just like Jinx.

"Guys, why are you shielding your eyes? I can't be that fugly..." Jinx's attempt at humor was lost on the two men, who were struck dumb by her beauty as the light ebbed slowly away to just a slight glow playing over her hair, skin and clothing.

"By the Old Gods, I never thought I'd see a changeling," Kidlat's voice was an awestruck whisper. "Or have one in the same room as a Bayot, for that matter."

And, having said that, Kidlat felt the impact of a fist on his jaw as Cocoy hit him with three punches to the jaw and chest in quick succession.

"Calling me a Bayot is fighting words, asshole," Cocoy said as he swept Kidlat's feet out from under him. "You're one to denigrate my preferences."

Jinx squealed and pulled at Cocoy's shoulders, trying to pull him off Kidlat, without success. "Get off him, Cocoy! Stop hitting him!"